


Reflection

by Oducchan



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: I don't have a fixation, M/M, Mirror Sex, Yes again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oducchan/pseuds/Oducchan
Summary: There is a damp spot, on the mirror.





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god I don't have a kink for mirrors. I just had this one too hidden.

There is a damp spot, on the mirror. It’s small and unsteady, it comes and goes, it spreads and then retreats. Tezuka stares at it, hazely, eyes so blurry he can’t really focus, and then he realizes it’s been made by his breath, by the small exales of hot hair he manages to get out between each burning spike of pleasure.  
It makes his head spin, more than Atobe’s cock pounding into him, more than the display he’s making of himself, more than the careless whispers that reach his ears.  
-Look at you, you’re so beautiful. So handsome, taking my cock so perfectly, ahn, Tezuka-  
It’s the idea that yes, he’s enjoying this, thights spread open, arms stretched at his sides, his own member flushed and leaking on his belly. He sees all of this fuzzily and he thinks he should be more embarassed by this, that he should feel humiliated, or even worse, ashamed by himself.  
But each word fills him with warmth. Each thrust makes him ache with want, with need, craving something he’s not yet able to define. Each touch pushes him higher, and makes him feel lighter, and lets him dream of melting, to be able to merge with the wondrous creature that has stolen his heart, his soul, and even his body.  
-You look like you were made for this-, whispers Atobe in his ear, and Tezuka thinks it’s true, he exists just to make Keigo’s voice crack with pleasure, to make his body tense and spasm and agonize and then release in a white sweet nothing. He exists just to love him, and that’s how he comes, spurting his seed on the perfectly smooth surface of the mirror and breaking its illusion. 


End file.
